Ellie vs the Birthday
by Brandywine00
Summary: Ellie Bartowski's having a rotten birthday. A neighborly John Casey plans to fix that. NOTICE: RATING SUBJECT TO CHANGE... Written for Jellie rayneluv's birthday! Enjoy, Evil Brain Twin! Reviews please!
1. Chapter 1

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Author: brandywine00

Chapter rating: PG

Written for jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin! And thanks for the beta!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, no infringement intended. My first Jellie ship fic, so please be gentle, but honest. Please review! Author's note: This is pre-The Ring episode, Ellie and Awesome are engaged, and Chuck does not have the Intersect 2.0 yet, but still has the old one. Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

* * *

It was hands-down, officially, without rival, the worst birthday.

Ever.

Eleanor Faye Bartowski, M.D., let her weary scrub-clad body collapse onto the sofa in her shared apartment, unable to summon the strength or the motivation to prop her aching feet up on the coffee table. Anyway, it would have required cleaning off said table – _again_ – from the mess left – _again_ – by one or both of her co-habitants. And she just didn't have the energy to do that – _again_ – especially on her own damned birthday.

Pulling long shifts was nothing new for her, nor was the sudden rush of emergency patients just a half hour before her shift was scheduled to end. Resting her elbows on her knees, Ellie dropped her face into her hands, letting a long sigh escape. Another followed, catching halfway in her throat. The third one broke half-way through into a small sob. Heedless of the hot tears washing into her trembling palms, she allowed herself the small luxury of a pity party, something she'd rarely ever done, but it was her damned birthday. _Happy Birthday to Me_… she sang softly, almost silently, into her tears.

Neither of them would be here to help her celebrate. Chuck had gone off for the weekend with Sarah, something about skiing. Sarah was good for Chuck, got him out of the house doing more, trying new things. Ellie winced when he'd announced the romantic getaway, wondering what new bruises her brother would come home sporting. Not the most coordinated guy, if the bumps and scrapes he now carried regularly were any indication. Sarah was apparently into more physically demanding hobbies.

_And then there's Devon…_ It was hard to say whether he'd started getting pre-wedding cold feet or if his sudden white-water adventure weekend with the boys _– on her damned birthday weekend_ – was just a product of the two of them being together so long… _taking me for granted…_

Ellie snuffled back the tears, and pulled herself away from the longest bout of self-pity that she'd indulged in since her mother had disappeared and left Ellie to finish raising herself and younger brother. After all, ten minutes to wallow in her own misery wasn't too much to ask for every dozen years or so, was it? But she was the practical one. Always had been. _Always will be..._ The one everyone depended on. Leaned on. _Crapped on_… she let herself think spitefully, but only for a moment.

It wasn't their fault, not really. Chuck and Devon tried to help out, but they relied on her to handle the running of the house. While she could honestly admit that much of the time she preferred it that way, there were times when she really just wanted – _oh all right, needed_ – somebody else to handle things. Pick up the slack. _Pick up their dirty dishes…_

"Stop it, Eleanor, this is getting you nowhere!" Ellie chastised herself, pushing herself up off the couch and hauling an armful of dishes from the coffee table to the kitchen. She dumped the assorted plates, glasses and cutlery into the sink, promising herself she'd do them first thing in the morning, and headed for a much needed shower. Get scrubbed down, watch a little television… _and no one to change the channel to sports or a replay of the Star Wars marathon…_ maybe a nice, soothing glass of wine and off to bed.

"Wow, I sure know how to celebrate," she sighed as she pulled her hair free from its ponytail.

* * * *

To be continued….


	2. Chapter 2

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Author: brandywine00

Chapter rating: PG

Written for jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin! And thanks for the beta!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, no infringement intended. My first Jellie ship fic, so please be gentle, but honest. Please review! Author's note: This is pre-The Ring episode, Ellie and Awesome are engaged, and Chuck does not have the Intersect 2.0 yet, but still has the old one. Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

* * *

He'd always been a thorough man. Meticulous. Attentive to the fine details of his job. His life depended on constant awareness of all things subtle, as did the lives of those within his realm of responsibility and protection.

Colonel John Casey officially had the night off. Walker and Bartowski were headed off on their "romantic ski weekend", the cover story that would allow them to scope out the new mountain resort. Intel suggested the place may be a commonly used rendezvous point for Fulcrum, but the data was stale. The nerd and his handler had orders only to scout around, see if Chuck flashed on anything, but not to engage. _Yeah, right. And he always stayed in the car, just like he was ordered._

Given that it wasn't expected to be a heavy mission, Beckman didn't see the need to find John a cover to join them. Suited the Colonel just fine. Two whole nights with no watching Walker and Bartowski dance around whatever really was between them in their fake relationship. No sandwich debate. No listening to the morons argue over who was hotter, Princess Leia or that legalized prostitute on some sci-fi space western named after an insect. He could still hear their last argument in his brain.

"_Dude, Inara would totally snatch Solo away from Leia so fast her hair-buns would wobble!"_

"_Are you insane? Inara doesn't have latent Jedi powers, and besides, Leia would so make an awesome Companion!" _

"_Both know swordplay, though. They could duel it out over Solo and Mal. Who do you think would win?"_

"_Depends on what would you consider the prize for a win? Mal or Solo?"_

"_Both own a smuggling ship, though undoubtedly the Millennium Falcon has the size advantage."_

"_What does size have to do with it? Size doesn't matter, everybody says that!"_

"_Keep on believing that, buddy."_

"_Yeah, but Mal would never let a Wookie on the ship! "_

John growled to no one in particular, still trying to scour more than two years worth of inane babble from his mind. Between the nerd, his bearded-troll buddy, and anyone remotely associated with the hell known as Buy More, there was only one normal, pleasant, rewarding aspect to this whole crap-ass mission. And that aspect had just walked through the courtyard on her way home.

He frowned. Eleanor Faye Bartowski, M.D., did not look happy. He knew she should have come home several hours ago… _it was his job to keep up with the asset and all things that could potentially impact the Intesect…_ A discreet call to Westside had confirmed her extended shift, no cause for alarm.

The usually vivacious woman fumbled with her keys, her shoulders slumped under the blue medical scrubs. The jaunty ponytail she'd left with this morning now hung low and slightly off-kilter, more than a few strands of her luxurious chestnut hair escaping. Frustrated with the uncooperative key, she let her head rest against the door for a moment before straightening and unlocking it. The living room window lit up a moment later.

_Must have been a rough day…_ Ellie was a caring, dedicated, hard-working lady, all traits he admired in a woman. It wasn't unusual for her to cover extra shifts at the emergency room so her co-workers could attend to their families. Private lives. _Real lives._

Something wasn't adding up, though. She'd been gone less than eighteen hours, a stretch Ellie could easily pull, and still come home cheery and smiling for those she loved. The Ellie he'd seen tonight was not smiling. Or feeling cheery. _Or feeling loved._

John sat down hard in his leather recliner at that thought. _Where had that come from?_ Something wasn't adding up, some piece of Ellie's world was out of sync, more so than usual. He flipped on the listening device on the side table, slipped the earphones on his head. _If something's wrong, it could affect the Intersect, _he rationalized to himself as he pulled up the video feed from Casa Bartowski.

The scene hit him like a hammer to the gut. Place was a wreck, both Bartowski and Awesome had rushed off to their weekend plans and left Ellie a mess to clean up. _Inconsiderate children…_ But her reaction caused a twisting in his chest that nearly caused him to rush across the courtyard to her. _Being neighborly, is all…_

She was crying. Not the open, uncontrollable wailing some women did, but softly. A quiet, subdued, hushed crying. Like she didn't want anyone to know. Like she wasn't allowed to get upset and cry.

On the very lowest end of the sound, John made out an almost whispered tune. He doubted he'd be able to place it, except was a tune so recognizable a child could have put the name to it. "_Happy birthday to me…. (sniffle) … happy birthday to me…"_

She stood and began clearing the offensive coffee table, leaving the dishes in the sink… very uncharacteristic of Ellie…

When she started toward the shower, pulling the wounded ponytail loose, Colonel John Casey's mind began forming a plan.

He'd have to hurry to make this work…

* * *

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Chapter rating: PG-13ish

Written for jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin! And thanks for the beta!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, no infringement intended. Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

Part Three

* * *

Ellie leaned back in the bubble-filled tub, letting the warm water and soulful blues music soothe her. The quick shower may have washed away the day's grime, but the large, deep tub had made her an offer she couldn't resist. Smoothing the rose-scented bubbles over her shoulders, she sipped slowly at her glass of wine. If no one else cared it was her birthday, at least she could give herself a small bit of self-indulgence. Relaxing into her bath pillow, she let her eyes close as her mind began to wander toward a more fulfilling way to celebrate her special day. Maybe next year, she sighed, mentally building the romantic scene.

_Flames crackling in a grand stone fireplace of a romantic Alpine lodge. Thick blankets tucked around her as she reclines into the deep, butter-soft leather of the sofa. Warm mug of spiced rum cradled in her hands. Strong, gentle fingers combing through her hair. She rests her head on a broad, well-muscled chest as she snuggles closer, breathing in the clean, masculine scent of him. She gazes up into impossibly deep, impossibly blue eyes shining with a knowing fire…_

Ellie's eyes snapped open as she sat up, sloshing a bit of wine over the rim of her glass. _Whoa! Where did that come from? _

Taking a larger-than-her-usual drink, she tried to brush away the memory of those steel-blue eyes… _So what? Devon's eyes are blue. They're blue, damn it!… _trying not to admit to herself that those searing, searching, worldly eyes had seen more than the young adrenaline-junkie doctor had ever experienced. They were eyes that knew things… good things, sensual and arousing. Things she shouldn't contemplate.

And things she didn't like to contemplate… darkness and sacrifice and loneliness and hard choices. Those eyes didn't lie about what they'd seen. Didn't try to hide what they saw in her, either. Her life hadn't always been a carnival ride, after all, and they'd seen that in her despite her best efforts to stay positive.

_Just a product of fatigue_, she told herself, _and irritation at Captain Awesome so not-awesomely bailing out on her birthday to be with his buddies_.

She rubbed the tight spot between her brows, sinking back down into the comfort of the bubbles. A different fantasy, then. Something a little safer. Perhaps an island getaway. They always had a great time in the islands… the sand, the sun, him surfing, her watching him surf… safe enough.

_Hammock under the shade of palm trees shifting gently with the warm breeze. Heavy floral scent wafting on the wind. Lazily pushing one bare foot against the sand, swaying the net swing. Watching the surfers as they ride the waves… and flirt with a bikini-clad girl strolling by…and stroll off with bikini-girl A surge of anger flares in her stomach, and she sits up, ready to storm up from the hammock and stomp through the hot sand toward – _

_Large hands take hold of her shoulders from behind, gently but firmly pulling her back to the hammock. Pulling her into a solid wall of bare, manly chest. She feels a tingling heat as warm lips breathe along her exposed neck, follow the hairline to her ear. The heat blossoms elsewhere, spreading through her body like quickfire as a low voice rumbles softly. "Don't bother, darling. That's not what you want anyway. Be honest with yourself." She feels the shivers running down her bare arms. "You deserve so much more, my beautiful Eleanor…"_

A wave of rose-scented bubbles rolled over the lip of the tub and splashed onto the tile floor as Ellie bolted upright. Blinking hard against the water she'd sent spraying up, she tried to breath slow to steady the frantic pounding between her breasts.

_She shouldn't be thinking these things. She should NOT be thinking these kinds of things. She definitely should not be thinking these sorts of things about the man she was thinking them about._

Heat flushed up from her stomach, burning up through her chest and neck to her cheeks.

_She should most definitely not be feeling this damned aroused by the things she should not be thinking about the man she should not be thinking them about._

Ellie tossed back the remainder of the wine, setting the glass down on the floor beside the tub with a hard clink.

_And above all, she should definitely not be feeling this damned aroused by the things she should never, ever be thinking about that man, whom she should not be thinking about doing them with - and enjoying thinking about it! Definitely. Not, that is._

Reaching up to her robe hanging by the tub, she retrieved her cell phone. Her heart dropped a little as she saw there were no messages, but she plastered a smile on her face and in her voice. Scrolling through the contacts, she tapped the icon by the familiar photo, anxious to hear his voice, if only to reinforce her decision to go forward with the whole 'death do us part' thing.

"Babe!" the voice through the earpiece sounded tinny and a little slurred. "Jus' thinking 'bout ya, babe!"

"You were? Really? That's so sweet, honey," she cooed, a little nauseous at the syrup in her tone, but really needing to connect with the man she'd agreed to spend her life with.

"Yeah, El, jus' thinking… there was something… I needed to tell you," he said as a modest crash in the background noise carried through the phone. Several loud guffaws and a tinkling giggle or two followed. "Hey, folks - not awesome! Can' you see I'm on the phone with my ol' lady?"

_Ol' lady?_ Ellie bristled, her eyes narrowing as the tinkling giggles continued on the other end.

"Devon, are there girls there? I thought you said this was a 'dudes-only bonding' weekend." The source of the giggling was definitely not male.

"Oh, yeah! I remembered! Ver' important, babe…" he trailed off, his voice slightly muffled, "Not right now… talking to someone…" before returning to normal volume. "Meant to tell you 'fore I left, but got in a rush to make the flight."

"What did you want to tell me, Devon?" She asked, letting a little of the sweetness seep back into her tone. She knew it! She just knew he wouldn't have completely forgotten her birthday. Just forgot to tell her.

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure to tell you not to forget what tomorrow is," he rambled.

"You mean 'what today is', right sweetie?"

"No, no, El, not today. Hope you din' think it was _today_!"

She frowned. "But it was today, Devon. You forgot, but it's okay now."

He huffed impatiently into the receiver. "No, Silly Ellie, it wasn't today, it's tomorrow! I should know, happens every week!"

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You're drunk, Devon. You mean today, and you mean happens every year, not every week."

He snorted into the phone. "Every year? Can you imagine the smell if it was every year? The stench would be awful! And the mess. Whew!"

"The _stench_?! Devon Woodcomb," she ground out from behind gritted teeth. "What the hell are you talking about? My bir – "

"Garbage!"

"What?!"

"Garbage, babe," he said slowly, as if explaining to a child.

"I beg your pardon?"

He sighed, resigned. "Tomorrow. Garbage. Didn't want to forget to tell you to take out the garbage. Tomorrow's garbage day, r'member." He snickered with a definite lack of sobriety. "Silly Ellie – garbage day every year!"

Ellie wasn't sure if he heard her raging shriek or not before the sleek cellular phone shattered into a dozen small remnants against the damp tiles.

* * *

To be continued….

Author's Note: Okay, so I went down a road I didn't plan on… Sorry to Devonites everywhere, I like the show's character, but this just kinda came out on it's own…


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Written for (and beta'd by) the excellent jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, no infringement intended. Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

Part Four

* * *

The whole damned mission should have been long done with._ A quick, easy 'in-and-out'._

John Casey flexed his hands around the Crown Vic's steering wheel. _Gotta start rephrasing that, marine! _He pulled the car smoothly into his parking spot at the apartment complex. _Sounds too close to what you've been without for too long!_

Carefully lifting a couple of mid-sized boxes out of the passenger seat, he set the vehicle's custom-installed alarms and strode toward the faintly lit courtyard. _You're just trying to be a gentleman, remember?_

His sharp eyes scanned the landscape, the roofline, the alcoves. Finding no immediate threat, he quickly unlocked his apartment and reset the keypad by the door. _Nice guy. That's all._

He never had anticipated the assignment would last so long. The mission to locate and retrieve the Intersect, eliminating the recipient of rogue agent Larkin's email, should have been a weekend job. He should have been gone and back to his real life in no time.

This should not have been the beginning of what seemed like a lifetime of a crappy cover, and all the conditions that went with it. _Nobody said you had to live like a celibate monk, dumbass. You've done that to yourself. Could have had quick-and-easy any number of times, if you'd get your head on straight. Quit looking for what you can't ever have._

John slowly opened the boxes and placed their contents on the table, staring at them for several long minutes. _Just keeping things smooth for the asset. Can't have his lady-feelings all in a tizzy over his sister when he's needed for spy business._

Jogging up the stairs to his bedroom, he quickly changed into a clean blue polo shirt and brushed his teeth. _Yeah, just_ _keep telling yourself that. It's all about the asset. Cause the asset cares that you've got minty-fresh breath_.

He frowned at the man in the mirror, and was rewarded with a knowing scowl leveled back at him, along with a hint of ruthless honesty. "Just being a good neighbor," he growled at that man.

_Say it enough times, you might even start to believe it, Johnny-Boy. _

This place was making him soft. No one, least of all John himself, ever expected he'd be stuck here in Burbank two years later. Still playing the kindly bachelor from the apartment across the way so he could protect the asset at home. Still pretending to be the going-nowhere appliance salesman at the Buy More so he could guard the nerd at work. It was starting to wear him down, he could feel it in his gut.

Sure, Team Bartowski had a good record so far, tracking down threats based on Chuck's flashes, shutting down a few bad-guys here and there, and exposing the threat of Fulcrum. But every damned morning he had to pull on that damned green shirt and drive to that damned electronics hell, John felt another little piece of him slip away. There were times he wished somebody else had been assigned to this mission.

Then there were the other times that he wouldn't have traded this post with anyone. Moments that he guarded like precious gems, though the hoarding had begun to worry him. Times when those slipping-away parts of him felt like old baggage being left by the wayside. Like those increasing number of proud moments when the kid did something really right. Or when he knew, without even looking, that Walker had his back. Moments around a family dinner table, everyone laughing at some joke or Morgan's latest exploit. _That very moment when the laughter reaches her stunning gray eyes - reaches right into you all the way down at the end of the table – makes you want to be the one who causes it..._

John slammed his palms down on the basin. _Not going there. Not going there. So many reasons we're not going there. _Staring down the scowling twin in the mirror, he deliberately brought all those reasons to mind.

A smiling, handsome face formed in his mind, topped by a shock of dirty blond hair. _Dude, she's my ol' lady!_

John gripped the edges of the sink to keep his fists from punching through that carefree, pretty-boy face. _Why the hell did you leave her alone to cry on her birthday, you son of a bitch?_

The face shifted, blond hair darkened to the asset's unruly brown waves. _Damn it, Casey, she's my sister! You can't bring her into all this mess. It's too dangerous! _

His jaw tightened. _You and your buddy Larkin started this mess. You put her into harm's way!_

Hair faded to golden, frames his partner's smirking, feminine features. _Way to keep the chocolate out of the peanut butter, Mr. Professional!_

Nearly shaking, John let his forehead rest on the reflective glass, breathing hard and slow through gritted teeth. _I've never touched her. Never laid a hand on her. Not one suggestive word. She's a lady. I would never. Not ever. Not unless…_

Hair swept back into a tight knot, features sharp above the military uniform. _Colonel, I suspected Walker had been compromised. I never expected such behavior from you!_

The last face faded to the familiar short dark hair and squared jaw and blue eyes studying him intently from the mirror. Beads of sweat dotted his hairline, started to trickle down his flushed skin. _Not safe for her. Not professional. Too much danger. Not yours. Too much to risk._

Turning on the cold water, he laid his face in his cool, wet hands and decided against his plans. Better to wait and go over tomorrow, after Chuck and Sarah had returned. Heaving a sigh, he faced the two-dimensional doppelganger with resignation. _Better for everyone, John. You know it is. _

He swiped the dripping water from his face with a towel._ Yeah, John. I know._

Resolving to put away his purchases and call it a night, he trudged through the bedroom and was halfway down the staircase when a last face swam into his mind. Chestnut hair so shiny he could damn near see his reflection in it. Smoky eyes, bright with laughter. No – bright with tears. The faint echo of a song whispered through him… _Happy birthday to me…(sniff) …Happy birthday… to… me._

His forearm shot out to brace against the wall as his knees damn near buckled under him.

_Coward. _Even in his mind, the word was flat and damning.

John sank down to the stairs, resting his forearms heavily on his knees. _Every damned body she cares about has abandoned her, today of all days. And you're gonna be just like them? All because you can't be man enough to keep your libido under control for a few minutes?_

Shoving up off the steps, he marched himself into the kitchen, collected the earlier purchases and blew out a bracing breath. _Hell no, Colonel. Not on my watch. _Withone last tug to straighten his collar, he headed purposefully toward her door. He may not be her family. _Or her lover_. His gut tightened. But hell, he was somebody who... _What, Colonel?_ Somebody who cared. _Might not be much, but that ain't nothing._

* * *

Author's Note: This is a bit short, but the next section decided to become a chapter on its own, which will be coming very soon…. In the meantime, reviews would be so very nice… Pretty please?


	5. Chapter 5

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Written for (and beta'd by) the excellent jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, no infringement intended. Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

* * *

Part Five

"John?" Ellie's eyes shot open wide as she hurriedly answered the firm knock. "What…?"

"Ellie!?" John plastered a friendly smile on his face, forcing his eyes by sheer will alone to stay above her chin. Focused on her shocked expression. Anywhere except for the slightly damp, rose-colored towel clinging to her still-dripping, rose-scented curves.

John felt The Little Colonel snap to attention, damned near ready to fire off a twenty-one-gun salute. _Belay that, marine! Not here for maneuvers, just a support mission. Stay on task, man!_

"I'm sorry, Ellie. How – how thoughtless of me." _Breathe, man. Just breathe._ "I've caught you at a bad time."

"John, wh-what are you doing here? It's nearly midnight," she stammered breathily with shock and some other unidentified emotion running across her flushed features.

"My apologies, Ellie. I know it's late, but I saw your light on and I thought… that… that is…" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like barely more than a primal growl.

Steadying his hands only through years of disciplined practice, he held the square white box out to her, flipping the lid open for her inspection. "I wanted to bring this over to you while it was still your birthday. It's not much, but I thought you might like…"

"P-pie?" Her chest – _that wonderfully crafted soft perfect rosy bosom_ – rose and fell a bit more heavily, erratically – _erotically – _as wetness lined her lashes. "You brought me pie?"

"Yeah. Uh, pecan." He jerked his gazed down to the still-warm pastry, cursing his exceptional peripheral vision as he did so. Long, long, long trim legs slid past his sight, long, long, long toned legs that were still pinked and dampened from her bath, waiting below the soft folds of the towel. _Legs built to wrap like a silky vise around a man's waist while his hands clutched her thighs_ –

"You like pecan. Right?" He asked, wrestling into submission the tremors threatening to roll through his body like the shockwaves after a heavy-ordinance blast.

The wetness in her lashes spilled down still-rosy cheeks, her full bottom lip trembling as she stared at his offering. Like a storm breaking from heavy, dark expectant clouds, her sorrows crashed through. Dropping her face in her strong, slender hands, she tried to muffle her sobs.

"Ellie…" he whispered huskily, setting the box on the end table and closing the door. Drawing her to his chest, he wrapped her up in his arms, allowing his hand to comfort her, stroke gently down her hair. Studiously, deliberately, he steered clear of the bare, warm, enticing skin of her back above the towel. _Nice guy. Nice guy. Mr. Freakin' Nice Guy._

"Ellie," he said softly near her ear. "Eleanor… you don't have to hide. Don't have to always be the strong one. Let it out, Eleanor. You don't have to hide your hurts. Not from me."

She shook faintly as he simply held her for a moment, before pressing her sweet hands lightly against his chest, pushing back from him to delicately swipe the moisture away. "I didn't mean to cry all over you," she murmured sheepishly. Her damp palms still rested softly against his shirt, and John could swear the heat coming through to his skin would send him into combustion right then and there.

"So, I shouldn't have gone with the giant cookie instead?" He shot her a crooked smile, daring to continue the light, soothing strokes to her hair. "Because I think they might still be open…"

"No, no, no. I love pecan, John." Her eyes focused an eternal minute on the hollow of his throat, the damnable spot where he could feel his pulse pounding away. "In fact, I don't know how you knew, but it's my very favorite." D_id her breath start to catch?_ Trailing up to linger on his mouth a moment, her smoldering gaze found and captured his own direct stare. "It's just…"

She was so close, near enough he felt the heat rising off her skin though their bodies maintained only the barest of physical contact. But the closeness of her, the scent of her, the faint sound of her quick, shallow breaths, filled his senses near to overload. _You can do this, John. You've withstood tortures that have killed lesser men, you can rein in your carnal wants and just be here for her. Nice guy. Good neighbor. Nice guy…._

"It's just...?" he prompted thickly, wetting his suddenly parched lips with his tongue. The action drew her attention for an excruciatingly drawn-out moment as she stared at his mouth, her own parted by a sharp, nearly inaudible inhale.

"It's just…" she echoed, still mesmerized by the air rushing harder and faster now across his lips. _Don't, Eleanor… don't do it… don't lean forward that inch more… don't bring that sweet, succulent mouth one millimeter closer to mine… don't dare… _

"It's just…" she repeated. Her pupils grew larger and darker. "Just…what I wanted."

_Don't you do it, woman… All I can manage to hold back now… Please… Don't…_

"What I've always wanted," she whispered. John felt his salvation and damnation the moment her lips softly touched his. _Don't…_ He steeled himself against the raging urge to haul her tight against him and plunder those lips. Somehow, miraculously, he held himself still against the feathery questing of her kiss.

Long, slender fingers slid up his chest, slipped around his neck and wrapped themselves in his hair. _Oh,_ _God… Ellie, don't… Stop, woman…Oh, God…_

Her sweet tongue slid between his lips, across his tongue, through his soul as his whole body thrummed and throbbed and rebelled at the self-imposed stillness. _Oh, God, Ellie… Don't…. Stop…_

She moaned long and low into his mouth. It was his undoing. Sliding his hands up her long, sleek neck, he cupped her face, tilting her head slightly left and back and parted her lips a fraction more. _Oh, God… Ellie…_ She shuddered against him as his tongue sought the refuge of her mouth, gently at first, then more insistently as her welcoming reaction spurred him on, until he was stroking and sucking at her mouth like a man starved. _Don't_…_stop, woman…_ some remnant of sanity protested weakly, slammed back into silence as she crushed her firm, luscious body against his, grasping at his shoulders, his back, his buttocks. _Oh, God…_

She crooked one long, supple, bare leg around his hips, using the strength in that lean, lovely limb to pull her lower body closer to his. Gliding his large, aching hands down her back, he let the right one support her at the small of her back. The left, he guided across that wondrously taut roundness of her ass, past the boundary of the soft rose cotton towel and along the sensitive underside of her raised thigh wrapped around his hip. _Oh, God, Ellie… don't… stop… don't stop, woman… don't stop…. Oh, my sweet, sweet Eleanor, oh God woman don't ever stop…_

Lust spiked through him, he went down to his knees, easing her legs to straddle his still-clothed lap without ever breaking the union of their mouths. He watched her though half-hooded eyes as he poured every ounce of the desire and want and lust and reverence she conjured in him into his kisses, thrilling when she met and matched and returned his urgency.

"John," she moaned, suddenly pulling back from him and he knew heaven would forever be closed to him once she sent him away. Closing his eyes against the agony, he stilled his hands against her thighs, unsurprised when she slid her fingers around his and pulled them upward. "Look at me, John."

Desperately trying and failing to calm his heavy breathing, he raised his eyes to hers, hoping for one last look at his goddess. "Look at me," she whispered hard.

"Eleanor…" He winced as his voice broke against her name, wanted to apologize, tell her how sorry he was that he couldn't maintain more control of his urges. Taking a deep, cleansing, totally ineffective breath, he let his eyes beg her to understand.

Those stormy gray eyes bore into him, still roiling from the heat of their exchange. "John, I want you to look at me."

"El, I…" _I am_, he tried to say. _I'm looking at the only woman who could ever make me want to stay here. The only woman who ever made me ache for what I've given up… the little house and the kids and the dog and the Little League practices and the casseroles and the coming home to you. Coming home to you._

"No, John," she breathed desperately, bringing his trembling hands in hers to the top of the rose-hued, rose-scented towel. Placing his long, shaking fingers along the edge of the fabric, she covered them with her own unsteady palms and whispered against his lips once more. "I want you to see me."

"Eleanor," he growled through his teeth, " I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"I am," she said, her voice tremulous despite hands that were now steady and sure. "I need you to see me, John. I feel so damned invisible. And it's killing me, one slow second at a time."

_Lord, woman, you're killing me, one slow second at a time. _She tucked his fingers into the top edge of the towel and moved her hands away, waiting for his answer. _No turning back from this. Even if you say no now, and I walk back out that door… nothing will ever be the same for me again._

He hesitated, searching her face for what seemed a second and an eternity, before slowly easing the fabric loose to drape around her hips.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Ellie vs. the Birthday

Written for the excellent jellie_rayneluv: Happy Birthday, Evil Brain Twin!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Chuck-related, (though if NBC, et. al. would like to loan me John Casey for a few days-weeks-yeah, I'd take it as a kindness!) No infringement intended, purely to feed the muse and the Jellies! Comments and constructive critiques appreciated!

~~Part Six~~

She was drowning in a flood of sensation, and didn't give a damn if she ever surfaced again.

The crush of John's lips on hers shot electricity through her, sent adrenaline rushing to the farthest reaches of her body. Ellie lost herself in the glide of their mouths and the heat radiating out from every place his hands touched her skin. Her pulse jumped from the delicate vessels of her neck, pounded in her ears so loud he certainly must hear it.

Echoes of earlier fantasies swirled around her mind, so vivid she could almost smell the tropical breeze, feel the sway of a hammock, hear the crackle of a fireplace. For a brief moment, she wondered if his being here was a product of her lustful imagination. _You aren't just dreaming this. _

It would be so easy to blame the warmth of the wine coursing through her system, or her physical and emotional exhaustion, or the long months of loneliness. So easy to convince herself she was experiencing another delicious fantasy.

But the solid, smoldering reality of his body, his hands, his lips on her were too intense to be a dream or imagination. _He's really here, strong and sure and so very male, holding you against him._

Desperate not to slide away as gravity overtook her quivering legs, she hitched one around his hip to hold on, thrilling as his large, strong hand followed to caress and secure it. Entwined, they melted to the floor.

Wrapped in his arms, Ellie felt a true connection for the first time in a very, very long time. Pulling back from their kiss, she studied him for a long moment, a growing surety in her chest. For too long, she'd been the invisible housekeeper and cook and accountant, ignored unless something needed fixed. Nothing more than a happenstance bystander during which her supposed partner tried to prove to himself how quickly he could bring her to climax.

How long had it been since she'd been kissed like this? Not with a cocky grin and arrogant, expectant look awaiting, but one of reverent desire, like she was something precious, someone to be treasured.

"See me, John," she whispered, pouring the long days and nights of frustration, loneliness and feelings of growing insignificance into her plea. "I'm here. I'm real. I need…"

John's gaze burned into her with a thousand questions and second guesses, but stayed firmly on her face. His fingers rested lightly against her hips, still gripping the towel. The eight points of bare contact scorched her skin.

A low groan rose from his chest as his fingers flexed around the cloth. Something flashed deep within those stormy blue eyes burning into her, as his nostrils flared slightly at his sharp inhale.

"Eleanor," he growled tightly through his teeth and pulled her closer to him with the towel. "You don't know what you're asking for. Asking of me."

"I know what I'm asking, what I want, John," she insisted fiercely. "What I want is you."

Sudden doubt stabbed through her when he didn't answer, didn't move. She was wrong. He had no interest in her other than neighborly politeness and concern. She was making a fool of herself over a man who fueled her passion in fantasies, but had no real-life attraction to her as a woman. He was just being nice.

But she could feel his big body shudder as she laid her hands on his forearms, could see his visible effort to hold himself back. Always so polite, always so mannerly, always so nice… but there was a hint of the uncontrollable pacing just beneath the surface. She'd sensed it as surely as she could now feel the hard evidence of his desire growing more insistent beneath her naked thigh.

Ellie was overtaken by the sudden need to unleash that uncontrollable part of him, to discover the real John Casey, the one she suspected prowled restlessly beneath his cordial exterior. Running her palms up the backs of his arms, she traced the firm muscles trembling beneath his short sleeves before sliding her touch down the length of his ribs and taking hold of the edge of the dark blue shirt.

"You're angry, Ellie," he rasped, shivering as her fingers caressed down his sides. He still hadn't brought his eyes below her chin, though the tic in his sculpted jaw suggested that was by pure willpower alone.

"You're upset with Woodcomb for not being here. You want to get back at him," his deep voice softened, reasoning with her. "I don't… don't want you to regret..."

"This isn't about him, John. Yes, I'm upset with Devon. For many reasons," she said simply, trying not to let the hurt turn her tone petulant. "His not being here tonight is just one more in a long list that's been growing for some time. It's not _just_ about him not being here, or _just_ the sudden 'dudes-only' weekend that's _not_ 'dudes-only', or _just_ him forgetting my birthday, or _just_ his hardly noticing me when he is home unless he needs someone to pick up after him."

Sliding her hands up under his shirt, she pressed her palms against his broad, thickly-muscled chest. "It's about every time I close my eyes, I see you staring back at me, John. Looking at me. Seeing me. Really seeing _me_." Leaning forward, she lightly touched her lips to his, whispering against them, "I want it to be when my eyes are open."

"I see you, Ellie," he answered, his voice tight with restrained need. "I see you more than you ever realize." He closed his eyes, jaw clenched and his brow creased. "But I can't… you're not mine. I don't take what doesn't belong to me."

"You're right! " She hissed, growing angry, not so much at his refusal but at the frustrated feeling that she had no say in her own life, and hadn't had for a while. "I don't belong to you, or to anyone but _myself_! And _I_ decide who to share myself with, the man _I_ choose! I choose _you_, John."

She wanted him to see her in the truest sense, but was unprepared when his eyes shot open and bore into hers. A new hardness paced behind the fire in those blue depths, a seriousness that locked her in place. His handsome face grew fierce, both dangerous and compelling at the same time.

"You don't even really know me, Eleanor," he growled, a feral smile edging his mouth at her quiet gasp. "You don't know what you're inviting, or believe me, you'd be running the other way."

"I'm not afraid of you, John Casey," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "You'd never hurt me. I know that. If you… if you're not interested in me…as a woman… just tell me. But don't think you're just going to scare me off with a growl, mister."

She didn't expect the bitter laugh he barked out as he hauled her up to within centimeters of his face. "Not interested in you? I'd have to be blind, stupid and dead to not want you, woman. But what I _want_ and what I'm at liberty to do about it…" his face softened as he carefully rose to his feet, gently drawing her to stand with him. "Sadly, those are two very different creatures."

For a brief moment, John let her see clearly behind his carefully maintained mask. With a tenderness that almost shattered her, he slowly let his gaze slide past her lips down the length of her, not hiding his look of pure longing.

His face contorted in resigned agony. Reverently, he pulled the edges of the towel closed around her now-chilled body.

"If…" he sighed heavily, stepping back slowly, "If things were different…I'm so sorry, Ellie. I wish –"

"John – " she whimpered, ready to wrap her arms around him, beg him to stay.

As suddenly as he'd appeared at her door, he was gone into the night.

~~To be continued...

Sorry for the long delay on this one, hope there's still interest. To be continued… reviews are my pecan pie…. Pretty please? ;D


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